Night Vision
by Arafel
Summary: V/M Live Through fic. Meryl waits for Vash to come home after leaving him on the cliff. Angsty WAFF? WAFFy angst? You decide.


**Night Vision**

_Now I watch you falling into sleep_   
_Watch your fist uncurl against the sheet_   
_Watch your lips fall open and your eyes dim_   
_In blind faith_

_I would shelter you and keep you in light_   
_But I can only teach you_   
_Night vision_

--Night Vision, Suzanne Vega 

The night was perfect for all kinds of romance, Meryl thought, as she settled her knees under her again. It was the kind of thing the girls back in the home office sighed over, the kind of story that provoked knowing giggles over coffee. In another time, another place, another situation, it would have been just the right time to try to broach the subject of Feelings, to make one of those impossibly cute stories that the girls would have envied. 

Stars were spread out in front of her and her unwilling companion, stretching from horizon to horizon like some jeweler's fantasy. The air was warm enough for comfort but just cool enough that another person's warmth would be welcome, and a good excuse to snuggle closer – just to "warm up," of course. It could have been so perfect, she thought, but everything else is wrong besides the evening. It could have been. 

Could have. Would have. Might have been. 

Wasn't. 

Meryl watched Vash's brooding form out of the corner of her eye. Even as broken down as he was, he still made her heart do a little lurch sideways every time she looked at him. Sometimes it was just the way a stray lock of gold fell over his forehead. Sometimes it was the flash of one green eye – when he wasn't hiding behind the trademark sunglasses, that is. Sometimes it was just the way he stood, all knees and elbows but surprisingly solid, and Meryl would have to squinch her eyes shut and clench her fists to keep from running up to him and finding out just how nice he would be to hug. 

But as she watched him, she knew she didn't dare. It was more than just shyness or fear of rejection on her part. It was the simple realization that Vash was carrying around more than his share of burdens now anyway, and he was in such a state of mind that any declarations from her would do nothing but make him even more conflicted. "_Everyone who touches me ends up dying,_" Vash had said. Any feelings he might have expressed for her would have been the equivalent of a death sentence, she knew, especially after Legato had used her and Milly to force Vash's hand. What the mysterious Knives would do to the object of his brother's affections wasn't something Meryl wanted to consider. 

Ironic, she thought, that just as she was getting closer to Vash, she finally understood why she should stay away from him. Why he wanted her to stay away. Why he wouldn't let anyone else help to bear his load. 

But God – she wanted so badly to try. 

Her legs were getting sore. Meryl shifted uncomfortably on the rock ledge and stretched out, thumping her calf to shake the prickles of sleep out of it. It was getting colder, too. Vash still hadn't moved an inch, except to put his head down on his knees. She hadn't heard a sound out of him since inviting him to stay in the village for as long as he wanted. It was useless to ask if he was all right, because she knew that he wasn't. 

Milly would get worried if she didn't get back soon. "I'm going back to the house," Meryl said to Vash, breaking the silence. "I'll see you later, okay?" She waited for a moment. No response. "Okay," she said, too cheerfully.   
Vash buried his head in his arms, still leaning on his knees. "Rem," he murmured, so softly that she wasn't sure whether he'd really spoken or not. "Rem, I'm so sorry..." Tears on his cheek glittered in the starlight. Meryl walked back to him, boots crunching gravel, and almost laid a soothing hand on his shoulder before she thought the better of it and turned away. Vash did not acknowledge her presence, and while it was easy to be hurt by such a brush-off, she knew the truth was that he was just too far gone in his own personal hell to notice anything else. 

It was useless to stay. Meryl shivered, wishing she'd brought her mantle, and began the climb back down from the cliff. She heard the scuff of shoes against rock and looked back, half expecting to see Vash following her down, but he had only curled himself into a tighter knot. Tears pricking at her eyes, Meryl left him alone. 

The house lights were blazing a welcome through the night when she finished the half-ile walk back. She saw Milly bustling around inside, still streaked with dust from the well excavation. The scent of cooking food wafted out through the half-open window, and Meryl quickened her pace. Now that she wasn't concentrating on Vash, her stomach was wrapping itself around her backbone. Hopefully Milly had minded the sauce like she'd asked. 

"Meryl!" Milly hailed as Meryl came through the door. "You're back! Is Mr. Vash with you?" 

The smaller woman shook her head. "No. He's still up on top of that cliff. He'll come down when he's good and ready, I guess." 

"Well, he's going to miss dinner if he doesn't hurry up," Milly said, briskly setting out plates. "And it's pasta, too. You know how Mr. Vash likes that." 

"Yeah," Meryl replied, sounding dispirited. "I hoped that making him something he likes would cheer him up a little. But, if he's not here..." Her voice trailed off. "Oh well. Guess nothing's right with the world when Vash won't eat, right?" She stared at the table, biting her lip and running one fingernail along a crack in the worn surface. 

"Are you okay?" Milly hovered over her. Meryl jumped a little in surprise – she hadn't even noticed the big girl come over. 

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." Meryl forced her mask back into place and perked herself up with a smile. "Well, if the big idiot wants to sit out in the cold all night long and miss dinner, we'll let him. More for us, right?" The words sounded hollow and false. 

"Hmmm." Milly gave Meryl a sympathetic look, which just made her feel worse. "Do you think we should save something for him?" 

"I suppose." Meryl sighed and got up. "Anyway, we'd better get the water heated and dinner started. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry." She knelt to pull pots out of the cabinets of the tiny kitchen, and the loud banging effectively discouraged any further talk about Vash. When she looked up again, Milly was gone, probably to clean up before the meal. 

Meryl listened for the sound of a familiar tread on the porch while the water boiled and the pasta cooked, but only the night wind tugged at the door. "Come home soon," she whispered, staring through the haze of moisture collecting on the window in front of her. She wiped it off with a dishrag, still hoping to see a lone tall figure silhouetted against the desert. 

The pasta boiled over, and the hiss of water against the hot burner brought Meryl back to reality with a jolt. Cursing her inattention, she lowered the flame and fished out a noodle with a fork to taste it. "A little overdone," she muttered, cross with herself. _But it's not like he's here to complain about it, _she thought. Normally, Vash drove her nuts with his fussing over her food, but tonight Meryl would have given anything to hear him whine. It would have meant he was back to normal. "Dinner's ready," she called. 

The scent of soap drifted out from the direction of the girls' rooms, and Milly soon followed. "Meryl? Is it time?" 

"Yup. Get it while it's hot," Meryl replied. The two women sat down to eat, Milly happily chattering about the construction work while Meryl listened with half an ear. 

"...So the foreman thinks we ought to be done in a couple days," Milly finished. She blinked and cocked her head at Meryl, who was pushing food around on her plate. "Are you sure you're all right, Meryl?" 

"Huh?" Meryl jerked her head up, startled. "Oh! Sorry. I guess I must have zoned out there." She gave Milly a sheepish grin. "So how do you know you'll be done soon?" 

"We've started to see water seeping up through the rock. It's really rewarding to see it! It means we're getting very close to a breakthrough!" Milly enthused, her eyes lighting up. "The foreman says this is the toughest part, waiting to get to the vein. Close, but not done yet!" 

"You're doing a great job, Milly," Meryl murmured, smiling a little. "They must be really happy to have you." 

"Well, every day that I go, I think about why I'm there," Milly said, suddenly serious. "I'm there to help Mr. Vash do what he needs to do. And I know that you're doing just the same." 

"You're absolutely right." Meryl fought back a lump in her throat. "I just wish... oh, I don't know." She shook her head. "Let's clean up." 

Milly was yawning by the time the two of them finished with the plates. "I'm so sleepy! Are you coming to bed now, Meryl?" 

"Bed?" Meryl glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine-thirty, and certainly time for all good working women to think about retiring. But... Vash still wasn't home. She didn't want to go to bed not knowing whether he was home or not. "Ummm... Why don't you go on ahead? I'm not tired yet," she said, stifling a yawn even as she spoke. 

"Oh, you want to wait for Mr. Vash to come home!" Milly said brightly, and Meryl felt her face burn. "That's okay, I'm sure he'd be very happy to have someone keeping the light on for him." 

"What – I am not – what are you talking about?" Meryl sputtered. "Wait for him to come home? I'm just not tired yet, that's all!" Milly just smiled, and Meryl knew she hadn't been fooled for an instant. Sighing, she flopped down in a chair. "I hate it when you do that." 

"It's okay for you to care about him," Milly said gently, and Meryl bit back tears for the nth time that night. "Maybe you should talk to him sometime." 

"I wish I could," Meryl said, abandoning her pretense in the light of Milly's quiet understanding. "I want to. But I can't right now. And I don't even know how he feels, either. It could be nothing but a huge embarrassment for him." 

"You'll never know until you try." Milly sat down next to Meryl, her hands on her knees. "And sometimes if you don't say anything, it's too late before you know it." She closed her eyes, and Meryl knew she was thinking about Wolfwood. Brushing away a tear from her eye, Milly stood up and patted Meryl on the shoulder. "I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning." 

"All right. Goodnight, Milly." Meryl waved to her friend's retreating form and set about straightening the kitchen. When that was finished, she scanned the room, looking for anything that might help to pass the time. The ticking from the clock on the wall seemed very loud, every echo reminding her that Vash was still out brooding on the cliff – or so she hoped. His coat still hung on a hanger near the door, a dim scarlet shadow, and his gun peeked out from behind it. He wouldn't have left for good without them, would he? _He'd better not, especially after I spent all that time mending,_ she thought, remembering pricked fingers. 

Ten o'clock. Meryl straightened the new sheets on Vash's bed, tucking in the corners. She fluffed up his pillows and brushed imaginary stray threads away from the surface of the blankets. "So it will be nice for him," she said softly, balling up the stripped linens. She knew he probably wouldn't have cared if he'd been sleeping in a pile of hay; in truth, given Vash's current frame of mind, he probably would feel he deserved it. _But you don't. You don't deserve any of this._

Ten-thirty, eleven. Her skirt and tight blouse had gotten far too annoying at the late hour, and Meryl changed into her old shirt and a pair of leggings. The leggings were unusual, but it wasn't that warm in Vash's room, and she didn't think it would be particularly decent for Vash to come home and find her partially unclothed and in the vicinity of his bed. Not that she felt that this was a terrible concept – quite the contrary, though wild Thomases could not have dragged this out of her – but the timing was all wrong and the last thing either of them needed was to get any kind of Ideas. 

Eleven-thirty. A cup of Milly's tea steaming in her hand, Meryl sat in front of the window, chin on the sill and nose pressed to the glass. Her breath fogged the pane in regular intervals, nearly obscuring her view of the desert beyond. She looked hard to see if Vash's form was still up on the cliff, but it was just too dark to see. A thin sliver of light on the horizon heralded the rising of the fifth moon. 

She must have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes again, the tea was cold in her hand and the moon was higher in the sky. Meryl scanned the desert again, wincing at the cramps in her back and neck from falling asleep in such a contorted position. As she stood up to stretch, the sound of the doorknob turning nearly made her jump out of her skin. 

"Milly?" she ventured, her heart in her mouth from hope. "Is that you?" 

The door opened, and Vash's familiar, haggard form darkened the threshold. He looked gaunt and tired, his normally spiky hair whipped into a tangled mess by the wind. Vash looked up at her, and she was nearly undone by the look of terrible pain and confusion in his pale eyes. "Hi," he offered, giving her a bare ghost of his former broad smile. Meryl winced. Wolfwood had been right – it hurt to look at him when he did that. 

"You're back," she said, trying to put on a cheery face for him. "We were worried about you. Are you hungry? I can fix you some soup, or there's some leftover pasta – it won't take long..." 

"No. It's okay. Thanks." Vash walked past her to sit on his bed, scrubbing at his eyes. "You're up late." 

"Ah... well..." Meryl fought back a blush and took refuge in the familiar. "Like I said, we were worried about you! What were you doing, staying out there so late? You're still not fully healed. What if you caught your death of cold?" 

"I had some things to think about." 

"I hope you didn't open anything back up," Meryl told him, resisting the urge to waggle a finger. "Let me see your shoulder." Uncomplaining, Vash let her inspect his bandages, her fingers light and professional. "Everything looks all right. You should take better care of yourself, though!" 

Vash shrugged his shirt back over his shoulders. "If you're finished, then you won't mind if I tell you that I'd like to be alone now." Meryl closed her eyes at the pang of hurt the little rejection brought, and drew away. "I'm sorry." 

"It's all right," she said, swallowing hard. "It's good that you're back safely. Sleep well, then." 

"Goodnight." 

Meryl retreated to her room, fingernails biting into her palms. "Oh, Vash," she whispered, wishing that she could soothe away some of his hurts, wishing that he wouldn't constantly turn them – turn _her_ – away at every turn. She cared, _yes_, she cared deeply, and to see him like this hurt her terribly. What was the use, Meryl wondered, for him to kill himself like this? Wasn't it just what that horrid brother seemed to want, for Vash to suffer? "Congratulations, bastard," she muttered. "It's working." 

And oh yes – Knives could add her, too, to his long list of people he'd made to suffer. Because what could be worse than sitting crumpled against the door to her room, listening for the sound of Vash's despair? Knowing that she loved him – there was that word, yes, she _loved _him – and knowing that she couldn't tell him, possibly ever? 

A long, low cry from the direction of Vash's room distracted her from her thoughts. _Not again. I can't listen to this again,_ she thought. Not another night. Not another night of lying awake with her hands pressed to her face, tears trickling through her fingers, waiting for Vash to fall asleep. She picked herself up off the floor and opened the door to her room, as quietly as possible. 

Her bare feet made almost no noise on the floor of their house as she crept down the hallway. The door to Vash's room was slightly open, and Meryl stealthily edged around it to peer inside. He was sitting up in bed with the blankets pooled around his waist, doubled over with his arms tight around his legs. She heard his breath hiss in and out from between his teeth as he tried to control the hitching sobs. 

"Oh, don't," Meryl breathed, one hand at her lips. "Please stop crying, please, please..." The sounds went on, Vash alone in the moonlight, riding out the torture of his perceived sin. _I can't go over there. I have to leave him alone,_ she told herself, firmly. _He asked me to leave him alone. I can't go... he doesn't want me there... _ She argued with herself, trying to ignore the pain that his pain caused her, outlining a thousand and one reasons why she should go back to her room. 

And then she looked at him and found that she did not care about the reasons why. 

Meryl eased the door open, gritting her teeth against the betraying squeak of old hinges. Vash didn't look up, nor did he seem to see her when she padded past him to shove the pillow behind him aside. When Meryl put her arms around his hunched form, carefully, she felt the shock of his surprise through his entire body. For a moment Vash was still, warm in her arms, and then he pulled himself away from her, roughly. 

"What are you doing? Why are you here?" he exclaimed, his eyes wide and angry. "I told you I wanted to be alone! Go away!" 

Meryl blanched and drew back. Vash had never spoken that harshly to her before, and she quailed under the look of thunder he was giving her. Then, a new and unexpected anger bubbled up from inside to match his. It was arrogant, that's what it was – this constant insistence on dragging this self-inflicted cross around, and Meryl had had enough. She narrowed her eyes and returned him stare for stare. "Guess what, buster. You don't get your wish. Not tonight. You don't get to be alone right now, because you need someone beside yourself to hang on to. And I am _here._" 

"What the hell are you talking about?" Annoyed and frustrated, Vash glared at her. "Why? Why are you always following me around? Can't you see what happens to people who are close to me?" 

"I see it and none of it is your fault, as much as you like to think that it is," Meryl told him, equally cross. "We 'follow you around,' as you put it, because we're your friends. _Look_ at me!" She grabbed his scruffy, unshaven chin and forced his eyes to meet hers, gray into green. "That's what friends are, you broom-haired moron, they're there for you and they care about you and they don't care what kind of mess you get them into! Milly doesn't care, and I don't care, and I am not going to listen to you kill yourself for the rest of the night!" 

Something in Vash's face was cracking. "All my friends _die._ You don't understand – you just won't see why this is such a bad idea...you have to go away and leave me alone..." 

Tenderly, praying that she was reading the signals right, Meryl grasped his forearms in what she hoped was a reassuring grip. Amazingly, Vash's hands crept around her arms, and she held her breath. "No, we won't," she said, quietly. "Your brother's your problem and you have to deal with him. But you can bet we're going to be there to help you however we can. Whether you like it or not." And then she leaned forward to catch Vash as he buried his face in her shoulder, sudden tears soaking through the fabric of her shirt. 

"I...do not..." he choked, his hands spasming painfully around her upper arms, "_deserve_ this, any of this..." 

"Shhh..." Meryl whispered, stroking his back. "You do. You more than anyone." She cradled his golden head against her, rocking him gently like a fretful child. _Which Vash was,_ she thought, with a sudden wisdom. Just a child calling for his mother when the nightmares came. Terrible, silent sobs wracked his body, shaking them both with their intensity. The lack of melodrama was almost frightening. 

Vash's grip on her arms loosened after a while, and he slid down into her lap, one hand – the real one, some corner of her mind noted – still curled around one of her wrists. Meryl hunched over him, protectively, the tears she'd been holding back all night finally getting the better of her. Warm salt coursed down her cheek and touched her lips. She desperately choked back the lump in her throat, not wanting Vash to bear the added burden of her anguish over him. 

She continued to hold Vash, tightly, whispering words of comfort into his hair, never ceasing the soothing motion of her hands. "It's all right," Meryl whispered, her voice running away into the corners of the dark room. "You'll get through this. We'll be here. I promise." Vash's only response was a muffled sob and a tightening of his grip on her wrist. 

How long he cried against her, Meryl didn't know, but she kept him as close to her as she dared, safe and warm for one endless moment. The clock ticked on, dreamily; the pale patches on the floor moved and doubled in the light of the moons. She brushed tears away from Vash's cheek, amazed that he let her do it, fiercely protective of the man in her arms who was twice her size. 

Eventually, the shaking of Vash's shoulders slowed and then ceased. She straightened up, pulling the blankets around his shoulders, unwilling to leave until she was sure he was asleep. Vash's breathing grew deep and regular as Meryl watched him slide into slumber, still nestled into her lap. He relaxed in the light of the moons, the first real peace she'd seen on him in days stealing across his countenance. The needy hand around her wrist slipped away as he fell deeper into sleep. Meryl studied Vash's face as he slept, admiring as always the planes of his face, the strong line of his back. At another time, another place, she would have nearly sold her soul to have Vash sleeping in her lap like this. Another twist of irony in what could have been a perfect night. 

The clock in the room chimed, faintly. Two-thirty in the morning, and she had to be up by seven. With a last, loving look at Vash, Meryl carefully worked herself out from beneath him and replaced her legs with his pillow. Vash muttered to himself and shifted, but he didn't awaken. "Sleep well," she whispered, kissing the tips of her fingers and brushing them lightly across his stubbled cheek. 

Weariness dragged at her with every step, but Meryl's heart was lighter than it had been since they had brought Vash to this little no-name town. Nothing had changed, really. Vash was still a wreck. There was still healing to be done and battles to be fought, out on the barren sands. But... for one instant in time, Vash had let go of a little of his pain, and let her in – unwillingly or not. Then, what might happen when he let go of it all? Then, maybe... 

Smiling out her window at the light of the fifth moon, Meryl whispered, "Maybe."   


---------------------------------- 

_with grateful thank-you's to Jaina for the beta-read and suggestions!_


End file.
